Alive
by shellalana
Summary: Krieg's bloodlust spikes, so he seeks to satisfy it at a nearby bandit camp.


Heat and cold bathed his skin, made him sick to his stomach with the churning of his energies. He needed to do something, to get away from Sanctuary. It was too clean here, too nice, and the murder of anyone here would bring about his own death. He'd see to that himself, he'd promised. No innocent blood. Lucky for him that the planet was filled with people no longer deemed such.

Cool night air wicked away the sweat from his skin, and the sudden dip in temperature had him shivering, more than he already was with anticipation. He could feel the drool pooling with his mask and threatening to spill out, his teeth grinding against each other in need for something warm and sticky.

A young bullymong was the first to cross his path, its fur thick and matted and stinking of musk that made his stomach turn. A chuck of his buzz axe caught it right between the eyes, and it dropped dead where it stood. Yellow eyes stared up at the sky, unseeing and uncaring. The buzzaxe was stuck fast between the splintered skull plates that even he had a hard time getting it out. Krieg planted a boot against its forehead and pulled, the wet sucking sound and grinding of metal against bone playing the strings of his desires until it finally came free. Hot blood dripped from the jagged edges and stained the snow, steam quickly rising and dissipating until the blood cooled.

Onto the next one. No time to waste standing here while his desires yearned for more.

The skags were of no interest to him - too small and too crunchy - and he steered himself right past them to the bandit camp at the far corner of the area. Enclosed within rusty walls, he watched them milling about, shirtless just as he was, but completely unaware of the demise about to befall them. As he sat atop a rocky outcropping, he tapped the handle of his axe against his knee, shaking more of the blood free until the rest was too coagulated to depart. It was fine. He never cleaned the damn thing anyway. If any of them managed to survive his onslaught, the pathogens in the animal's blood would quickly take care of the rest.

The warmth of the collected saliva finally slipped free and ran down his chest, cooling instantly against his collar bones. It reminded him of the bubbling heat within, his need to vent this fervor before it took him over. It was only a matter of which one he would pick first.

Pupils narrowed at the perfect target: a bandit warming himself by a fire burning in a barrel. Satisfied, the bandit lowered his pants and turned, baring his bum at the fire. The lewdness between his legs made Krieg's pulse tick a beat. Naked. Primal. The more exposed flesh, the better.

A feral yell filled the air as he hopped down and charged towards him, his mighty axe held high over his head. The unaware bandit was caught off guard and pissed himself in fright as he tried to pull his pants back up. But he slipped and fell; his attempts to get up knocked the barrel over and outing the fire within. His scream for help didn't get far with the saw blade sunk deep into his back and almost clean through his chest cavity. Sobs gurgled out of his throat as he tried to breathe, tried to make sense of why this was happening to him. He clawed at the snow in desperation to get away-

Turning the bandit overby the shoulder finished the job, his legs still facing the other way. Viscera spilled from the destroyed torso, creating a deep puddle of red that bubbled with the melted snow underneath.

Plumes of steam escaped the sides of Krieg's mask, and his exposed eye narrowed in glee at the sight of such glorious colour.

"FOUNTAINS."

But he needed more, more colour to work with to complete his masterpiece. He dropped to his knees on either side of his victim, his large thumbs pressing against the plastic of the bandit's goggles. They trembled with the pressure as tiny fractures started to form. Krieg watched his reflection in the tiny discs of plastic, and how it started to deform with the growing splinters. Disappearing entirely when they met and granted his fingers entry to the soft tissues of his eyeballs and beyond. Vitreous fluids and blood bubbled up and oozed out around his fingers until they filled the goggles entirely and started running down the sides of the dead bandit's face.

 _One down. So many more to go._

"Hey!" A larger bandit with metal wrapped around his head yelled and pointed a gun at him. This one would be more troublesome. No eyeballs to play with. But there were still weak spots. He could already count more than a handful.

Gun fire burst from the end of the barrel in flashes that reminded him of fireworks, the little sparkles of colourful light he'd seen once, when the others were gathered to celebrate... something. He didn't know or care, and was content enough with the half roast skag he'd been given from off the grill. They were pretty, he would admit, but he could never make something that beautiful, not with his hands.

The bullets did nothing to slow him down, and the pain of them buried in his flesh seemed to spur him on. Fueling his desire for more, the need to taste the warmth…  
He ripped his mask off during his lunge towards the man, and sank his jagged, misshapen teeth into the soft spot of his neck. The edged metal of the helmet dug into his cheek, and he could feel his blood mixing with the crimson pooling around his teeth and staining his jaw and neck. Warm. Bubbling. Flowing like life itself.

 _Alive_. This is the only way he can feel alive, instead of the dead monster he'd become. The monster they'd made him.

This was the only way he could _stay_ alive, with those he now chose to live with. Those who would never understand.


End file.
